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Alyais

Never Enough [Journal]

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Alyais    0

[FIRST ENTRY]

My father always used to tell me that the most dangerous men were those who had nothing to lose.

The BBC had been kind to me during the years I worked there but the greatest kindness they did for me was sending me to Russia. Whatever this is, and whatever has happened, at least I don't have to see my home like this. As I walk around the streets of a town I can hardly pronounce I know that those screaming undead horrors aren't my family, they aren't my friends. I thank the BBC for that.

Investigative journalism is what they called it but I always hated the term "journalist". For some reason it just seemed dirty to me, as if journalism in our modern time wasn't what it was in the decades before. Forget the honorable host relaying the world's events- modern journalism was sound bytes and manipulation. I reported on events and when the chance to report on a Russian conflict came to my desk I wasn't going to pass it up. Sergei, my translator, accompanied me.

From the Big Apple to Chernogrask, what a transition. Sergei and I were hosted at one of the locals hotels and our work was to begin quickly. Coming here made me think of my parents and the journey they must have experienced, both immigrants to the United States from South Africa. In many ways our stories were similar but, of course, my parent's did not contend with the undead. My father, trained as a doctor, and my mother a nurse he met- neither had fully prepared themselves for America but both survived.

I guess there is some of my father in me...here in Svetlo.

[attachment=1013]

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Alyais    0

I've never believed in bad omens or superstition, but a journey where it rains every day should mean something.

Leigh and I met a few days ago and, of course, she and I became seperated from Gregor. The first native Russian speaker I meet and he's out the door. No matter, my parents survived New York knowing as little english as they did and I'm sure I can survive this. Myshinko was a dead end. One more trail of false hope and false promise. At least this time, unlike Svetlo, I had some company to keep me cheerful. I don't remember it ever raining like this in the east and I have to say that some part of me misses those cold nights in Svetlo. Cold and lonely, but the Undead there were fewer and scavaging was easier.

I'm greatful for the company and greatful for Leigh's skills with a rifle. After we secured the town we headed to the bar and cracked open what may have been the last two beers in this town. Town, ha. In America I remember some of the people saying that a Church wasn't the building; it was the community. If that's true then this is no longer a town. Only the dead live here now- the last remenants of whatever refugee camp once secured this place. Maybe its better that we arrived as late as we did.

Leigh and I left a note in the bar saying we'll be here for a few days and to look for us. I left an opened can of peaches beside the note, hoping that whoever finds it understands that just because the Undead mean to kill us that we can still live together.

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I've never believed in bad omens or superstition, but a journey where it rains every day should mean something.

Leigh and I met a few days ago and, of course, she and I became seperated from Gregor. The first native Russian speaker I meet and he's out the door. No matter, my parents survived New York knowing as little english as they did and I'm sure I can survive this. Myshinko was a dead end. One more trail of false hope and false promise. At least this time, unlike Svetlo, I had some company to keep me cheerful. I don't remember it ever raining like this in the east and I have to say that some part of me misses those cold nights in Svetlo. Cold and lonely, but the Undead there were fewer and scavaging was easier.

I'm greatful for the company and greatful for Leigh's skills with a rifle. After we secured the town we headed to the bar and cracked open what may have been the last two beers in this town. Town, ha. In America I remember some of the people saying that a Church wasn't the building; it was the community. If that's true then this is no longer a town. Only the dead live here now- the last remenants of whatever refugee camp once secured this place. Maybe its better that we arrived as late as we did.

Leigh and I left a note in the bar saying we'll be here for a few days and to look for us. I left an opened can of peaches beside the note, hoping that whoever finds it understands that just because the Undead mean to kill us that we can still live together.

I think I know where Leigh got that hat! Loving this series, looking forwards to updates!

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I loved the story, and yes, I actually did read everything but..

The BBC had been kind to me during the years I worked there but the greatest kindness they did for me was sending me to Russia.

I assume you think (or your character thinks) that you are holed up in Russia? Because we aren't actually, we're in Chernarus... more specifically South Zagoria. You say "from the big apple to Chernogorsk" so if you mean from Russia to Chernogorsk, then completely ignore what I just said, I can't tell though if that's what you mean so..

greensearegion.jpg

It is however possible for your character to migrate from Russia to Chernarus, a lot of people actually play as this IG. Here is the link for the entire thread of where Chernarus is: Dat Link

Other then that, keep it up, I love the pictures you take. We need more SA journals. :)

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I loved the story, and yes, I actually did read everything but..

The BBC had been kind to me during the years I worked there but the greatest kindness they did for me was sending me to Russia.

I assume you think (or your character thinks) that you are holed up in Russia? Because we aren't actually, we're in Chernarus... more specifically South Zagoria. You say "from the big apple to Chernogorsk" so if you mean from Russia to Chernogorsk, then completely ignore what I just said, I can't tell though if that's what you mean so..

greensearegion.jpg

It is however possible for your character to migrate from Russia to Chernarus, a lot of people actually play as this IG.

Other then that, keep it up, I love the pictures you take. We need more SA journals. :)

The big apple is slang for New York City :D

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The big apple is slang for New York City :D

Oh good, then I didn't misread it, I thought there was a big apple in Russia for some reason. :P

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Alyais    0

Zelengorsk was the next place we would naturally go and I can only hope its one of the last big cities here in the west. We saw more Undead here than anywhere I have yet been, but we rejoiced in that we found an old friend there. In the confines of the hospital we saw Gregor, nursing a wound to his knee. No bite, no scratch. A sprain. I haven't believed in God since I was a child but I felt a part of me wanting to thank him. Gregor and I didn't mean until this all started but to lose someone I've become such close friends with again would be...

I'm no doctor, but I think that the splint I made helped Gregor enough. And good thing too, once we reached the woodline Gregor sprang something on me I wouldn't have expected. Men were hunting him, three in number and they had automatic weapons. They had tried to hold him up and failed, firing shots at him as he fled the Airfield we had last seen one another. That was why we hadn't seen one another, the man was fighting for his damn life.

They've been chasing him for days and now that we're together all we can do is make our way south...and hope.

[attachment=1034]

We're making our way to the capital. Gregor says it called Cherno...

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Alyais    0

Between the rain and fog we couldn't see or hear each other. Wherever Leigh's journey has taken her, its no longer with us. We discussed our bearing and plans before we set off and Leigh knows we're headed to the city; Cherno. Only in Cherno may there be a station affiliate of the BBC and where there's a station there must be a generator. Back in Svetlo, Gregor and I collected some deisel fuel in a canteen. It isn't much but it'd be enough to know if there's any civilization left outside of Chernarus.

Dangerous or not, Gregor and I don't have a map and our best bet to finding Cherno now is to follow the tracks.

[attachment=1037]

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Alyais    0

We thought we found the city when we came across these huge apartments but little did we know it was buT a suburb. Cherno must be absolutey huge if these monstrosities are just the outskirts. Gregor handed me a gift, in return for the raincoat I found him, so that I can translate Russian myself. He's a good man and this primer will come in handy. I keep it tucked in my coat and care for it like a child. Who knew at thirty two I'd be trying to learn another language.

The rain hasn't stopped in the last week and I swear that the closer we get to the coast the more wet we become without stepping foot in the water. Our raincoats do little to keep us dry but we don't have enough supplies to stay put for this long, not to mention neither of us has a lack of ambition.

There must be someone living in these apartments. There's more windows than we can count and the thought that hundreds of these people died and not a single survivor disturbs us both.

Gregor thought he saw someone. Neither of us believe in ghosts, but we don't have the strength to investigate who it might be. For now we need rest. Cherno, and meeting up with Leigh, will have to wait.

There seems to be a lot of support for my journal here. If you would like to be part of the story you can add me on STEAM and we can play together. The only rule I have for those I play with is that under no circumstance can you break my immersion. Everything is in-character and everything is in-game. http://steamcommunity.com/id/Alyais/ [/size]

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Alyais    0

Growing up in Brooklyn Heights meant that I had a lot of options afforded to me and the school I attended was one of the more prestigious schools in New York City and the one that my father and mother thought would be the best for me. My father was an Atheist, though my mother was not, and he refused to send me to a school of "indoctrination" as he called it. When my mother would insist that I accompany her to Church he would tell me that there was no sanctuary there for my mind or my soul.

When Gregor and I arrived in Cherno we saw the devastation that this rampage had done. The hotel I had stayed at was nothing more than a reduction of rubble thanks to a collision with a plane. The Undead were everywhere and Gregor and I quickly sought refuge in the one place my father had always mocked.

[attachment=1039]

As we moved through the city we could hear faint gunshots and we knew that our time here was limited. We had come to Cherno with a specific goal in mind despite the risk- the goal of activating the generators at the BBC affiliate and trying to get the radio tower there to work. Everyone else in Chernarus held out hope that they might see their family but mine? Mine were a world away. As we neared the hotel I could see the remnants of my room on the sixth floor hanging out the side of the building.

[attachment=1040]

I hadn't yet been to the BBC affiliate and Gregor had no clue where it was. Our searching the town presented many dangers and all the while we could hear the very faint sounds of a rifle in the distance. Our imaginations wondered if someone was fighting for their life against these monsters and we had doomed them to death by not coming to help, but both of us knew that the nature of man in times like this wasn't friendly. Neither of us wanted to die today. We held up in the police station for a moment and found a map of the city there. Ha! The BBC was right across from my hotel and I hadn't even known. We made our way there...

[attachment=1041]

The Undead that charged us as we looked at the smoldering ruins of my last hope found all of my aggression. Ten? Twenty? I'm not sure how many rounds I placed into him before dropping my gun and feeling this despair. A deep despair, one compounded by weeks of searching for survivors or some sign of life outside of this chaos.

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